humid day
while driving in the work car
I am blasting air conditioned air
full force. cold. radio on. I only seemed
to be able to listen to classical today.
all singers seemed idiotic.
their songs seemed dumb.
they were screaming about partying.
moaning about selfish love.
crying over breakups.
no one seems to sing about the moon anymore.
the rivers winding through our cities.
the cities themselves, or just growing older.
why don’t pop artists sing about growing old?
about having fun doing something simple?
no one is singing about anything besides
fucking and breaking up.
just bland classical music in the background
is what seems fitting.
I look around at the bulging of trees
and plants on the hills of Pittsburgh
that looms in a hot haze. the river
near McKees Rocks is moving slow.
a fog hangs about it in the heat
and fills my car with a fish smell.
Ivy crawling across telephone wires.
this city would be absolutely
swallowed with greenery if left alone
for a year.
fat people plodding along
on the sidewalk across the bridge
with soda and straws sweating
in ill fitting clothes seem
to not notice.
